To his Whiskers
by sadcaw
Summary: There are so many things left unspoken. Upon a page, Dan can speak of those things: the little quirky happenings; the smiles shared; the feeling of comfort when there is nobody left...but Phil. Phil. Phil. Phil. Dan is about to need that passageway. Because the only thing he can think about is Phil. And how do you put thoughts to words without the words coming out as apologies?
1. March 15th, 2013

_March 15th, 2013_

There are a million ways to describe the being that is Phil Lester. Spontaneous. Funny. Sweet.

Indulging.

I'd like to think I counter his best traits with a little something to keep reality in check. For example, while he can be completely happy and excited, and, _God,_ just Phil- I can be this miserable shadow eating cereal in bed at 3am, wondering why my emotions just decided to fly out of the fucking window.

We have a pretty stable life together. Balanced, to say the least. And while somebody might glance at the pair of us, two opposites, and say "Gosh, what a bloody mess _that_ is," i'm pretty sure the only 'bloody mess' around here is me, myself, and I.

So, keeping that in mind, the events that happen over the next couple of months are completely unscripted and unplanned. But if there is something wrong, something overwhelming, something that drives Phil away, I can assure you that he has nothing to do with it.

Or rather, he has too much to do with it. Too much to do with me. And for that, if he ever finds this, I apologize to him. To his smile. To his personality.

To his whiskers.


	2. March 24th, 2013

_March 24th, 2013_

Let's start by putting this all bluntly: i'm bi. No, I don't do threesomes. No, i'm not unfaithful.

I'm simply bi.

And nobody knows it, nor does anybody need to. It's complicated enough as it is without my sexuality peeking in and screaming, "Hey everybody, Dan's bi! Oh, and Dan, fuck you."

So yeah. That's out of the way.

Today was a lazy day. We didn't really work on our videos. We just…coexisted, you know? We didn't really interact. If we had, I wouldn't of used such a cold word…coexisted…urgh.

I don't really know why. Phil kinda just gave me one of his little grins- you know, the one where his tongue sticks out between his teeth?- and said (his exact words), "I'm not in the mood for doing all that much, Dan. Do you want to watch Buffy?"

Well, I can tell you I didn't say no. From there, we didn't speak much. Just, "Go fetch a snack, Dan," or "Do you think we should start working on the video?" "Nah."

Or, "Dan, what are you doing?"

Wait. Hold on. Let me tell you now that this was one of the most mortifying experiences i've had in my entire life. Alright?

"What?"

And I look down. Apparently my hand had made it's way to Phil's hand and was silently stroking it with my thumb.

No wonder I had felt so calm all the sudden. The warmth. The casualness of it all. The way I leaned into him.

 _Fuck._

"I don't really know, to be honest."

And then he just gave me a worried smile, a concerned one at that, and then we were back to Buffy.

 _God fucking dammit, what the fuck even_ was _that._

So that was my day. Yeah.


	3. March 25th, 2013 ( 3:40 am )

_March 25th, 2013 - 3:40 am_

I can't sleep. I would've begun writing sooner if I had known how much it calmed me.

But it also opened me up in somewhat disturbing ways.

Sleep is for the weak, right?

See, that's the part that I can show on paper. The side of me that Phil _can not EVER_ see. The side of me he probably knows about, but ignores, because Phil sees the best in everybody.

We had gone to bed as empty creatures. Not feeling fulfilled, I suppose. I had cooked dinner for us, chicken stir-fry, and we had eaten in silence. Why all the silence recently? It isn't like Phil. Maybe there's something wrong with him, and maybe I just pay too much attention to things he might want to keep private.

I don't know _why_ i'm so involved in Phil. It's just that (this might sound selfish, but what doesn't these days) I need him near me at all times in order to feel safe, regardless of all of our personal issues.

God, I hope Phil is okay.

We've lived together for awhile now. On tumblr somebody messaged me a link. It sent me to an article that stated that anybody living together for a certain amount of time, by law, was considered married. Phan shippers, and all that.

I guess I'm married to Phil? And if so, should I be noticing the shit that goes on with him? His eyes have been so fucking _EMPTY_ and I want to _HELP_ him because he's a genuinely good _FRIEND._

 _FRIEND FRIEND FRIEND._ That word is used sparingly nowadays. Am I his friend, his mate, his chum, maybe his husband?

I dreamt of Phil- his black air swept back, his blue eyes reflecting the sky, his gorgeous smile- on our wedding day. I'd be wearing a black tux, and he'd be wearing a white tux. Purity kissing his partner, Impurity.

I guess you need one for the other one to be valid, though.

I hope I validate Phil enough.

He needs that.


	4. March 28th, 2013

_March 28th, 2013_

Where's Phil?

He isn't in our pad, and he isn't in the park where he usually is.

Believe me, I checked.

He hasn't been home since I last wrote. He hasn't even texted me. That is definitely not Phil-like.

I'm going crazy, and that's just putting it bluntly! I've already texted him like a bajillion times, which isn't proper texting-etiquette, and I've been camping out by the door with his blanket and Lion.

Lion smells like him. But it isn't enough.

I'm going out now. I'm going to ask the shops around our neighborhood if he's been in any of them.

 _WHERE THE FUCK IS PHIL? Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!_

I'm going to find him. I'm going to find him and he'll be safe. I really need Phil to be safe. Because if he isn't safe, I'm not safe, not to anybody, not to him, not to myself.

Fuck. I need Phil so bad.


End file.
